


La Rosa de La Habana

by NoOrdinarySouthernGirl



Series: Havana Heat [1]
Category: Dirty Dancing Havana Nights, Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights (2004)
Genre: 1959 Cuba, Angst, Cuban revolution, Dancing, Dirty Dancing, F/M, Hurt, I couldn't help myself, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love, Misunderstandings, Pregnancy, Spanish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoOrdinarySouthernGirl/pseuds/NoOrdinarySouthernGirl
Summary: It's a dance about being exactly who you want to be in that moment. For Katey, she knew the kind of woman she wanted to be, and who's.. if only Javier would stop listening to his older brother, Carlo, and see for himself.





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> So the Dirty Dancing movies are some of my favorites and definitely my go-to movies. Something inspired this work when I was in the middle of watching Havana Nights for the umpteenth time and the story between Javier and Katey seemed so much stronger near the end. I couldn't let it end. Plus, the movie had baby Diego Luna and Romola Garai.

The revolution was over and Batista had fled the country. It took almost three weeks for Ford to finalize our retreat from Havana and in that time Javier and I danced as much as we could. No, our night on the beach on New Years was not our last, we did love dancing together after all. The need to be in each other’s arms was powerful.

After my mother’s disastrous attempt at the talk, she must have slipped the small package of condoms under my pillow one evening while I was out with my Cuban. Too little too late, mother. Javier and I didn’t stop that dance on the beach.

The last night we were in Havana we were the King and Queen of La Rosa Negra, and we knew it wouldn’t be our last dance. I wasn’t trying to sound romantic or metaphorical when I told Javier that I was leaving with a piece of him. We didn’t win the prize money to help his family, so even with the volume of love spilling from it, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was pregnant.

I spent the remainder of my senior year in Miami home-schooled by my mother, still dancing. Telling my parents was difficult, but as they had come to know Javier in the time before we left, they realized he was more than just a dance partner. With the new Cuban government settling in, my father set to work on his contacts within both countries to make a deal under the table. I was offered special dispensation because we lived close to Cuba and I was carrying the child of my “Cuban lover” as my sister, Suzi, called him. The documents stated that I had been in an already established relationship with a native resident.

So there I was, 6 months pregnant, boarding my final flight home - to Havana.

On my flight, I began to wonder how I was going to explain to this man that I’d fallen in love with in such a short time why I was already returning. Admittedly, my small 6 month belly would probably give away my little secret, at least according to Yolanda. Because of my height, a healthy 5’9”, my slim figure hid what should have been a much larger baby bump.

What would Javier say? His mother and brother? I desperately needed him to believe that this child was also his, that I hadn’t broken my promise as soon as I returned to the states.

I wanted to surprise Javier so no word was sent ahead to him. Instead I called our former housekeeper, and my friend, Yolanda, who agreed to pick me up from the airport and keep an eye on me. As we drove through the streets, I took in the sights and smells of home. I couldn’t believe I was already back.

It was late evening by the time I’d rested from my journey and after a quick bite to eat, Yolanda set out our plan to surprise Javier. We would go to La Rosa Negra, it was after all a Saturday night and all of the real dancers are there on Saturday night.

Being pregnant in the summer in Havana may sound like hell to some women, but if I could find my love, it would be like a cool breeze every day.

That night, somehow I was still in heels, we made our way into The Black Rose and mixed ourselves among the chaos of the dance floor. The heat and the sweat swept away my worries with the beat. Not two songs had passed when someone in the crowd recognized me - I was the only blonde, white girl there - and shouted for all of the bar to hear, “The Queen of La Rosa Negra has returned!”

Shouts and calls went up around me and hugs came from every direction. Gradually I could feel the crowd parting at my back, silence hushing the dancers, and a pair of familiar, strong hands found my shoulders. Hot breath rushed past my ears as he spoke, “Katey, you have returned, and much sooner than we expected!”

In our haste to see each other face to face again, I may have forgotten about one small detail between us. Javier’s hands slid from my shoulders down to my hips where they encountered so much extra terrain.

Strangely, I could see as the brightness of his dark brown eyes dimmed in an instant, not by much, but still noticeable to me. I felt Yolanda nudge me from behind and nod towards Carlo, who was whispering something into his younger brother’s ear. After a quick nod to his brother, he dropped his hands from my hips as if a Cuban fire had hit him. Perhaps it did. “Goodbye,” was all Javier has said as he followed his older brother out of the bar and into the humid night.

I turned to Yolanda who seemed to understand at once and suggested we return home, “Don’t worry, Katey. Get some rest and you try again tomorrow.”

She was very much a mother hen tucking me in with the covers pulled tight around my swollen front. I knew she was only trying to be reassuring, but I wasn’t sure if it was helping. “Tomorrow you’ll go to his home and talk to su madre, your child’s abuelita.” She squeezed my hand one more time before leaving my bedside, “Make sure she understands, and I’m sure she will. She loved you, if I remember right.”

I turned on my side as she went to leave the guest room, “Are you sure, Yolanda? What if he doesn’t believe me?”

With a parting goodnight, she said, “trust me, it will work out,’ and she closed the door.

A baby kicking you inside wasn’t exactly the easiest way to sleep at night, added to my anxiety about seeing the Suarez family again. I knew I couldn’t have gotten more than two hours sleep all together. I rose with the 5am sunrise and sat in Yolanda’s little court yard sipping tea and admiring the colors of the new morning.

Yolanda appeared in the doorway after an hour or so and dragged me to a shower in the back of the house to freshen up. “Now wash away those worries, child, everything will be alright.”

I tried for a small smile, “Thank you again, Yolanda. Truly.” With a parting squeeze of my hand and two towels, she left me in peace for a hot shower.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t stomach more than a cup of tea  so breakfast would have to wait. Less than 24 hours after I entered the country, I’d be entering the Suarez family home after five months away. Is it a big enough surprise to have me back? Well buddy, part of me is bigger than all of us.

Reminiscent of my first visit right after Javier was fired from the hotel for walking me home, his little sister Antonia answered the gate when I rang the bell. I could see the exact moment she recognized me and shouted one of the few English words she knew as she threw open the gate, “Katey!”

The sudden shout brought Angelica Suarez running from the house, only to stop dead within two feet of me. The stunned expression and silence extended for what felt like hours though only minutes before pure joy shone on her face and she embraced me, careful of my stomach.

She pulled back a little for breathing room, Mrs. Suarez still held me close as she gave me a small questioning look. With a slight blushed, I looked down at my hand resting on my belly and nodded. Some looks transcend languages.

The two-time abuelita hugged me again and pulled me into the house where abuelo and Rafael, Carlo’s son, were playing. As the toddler ran to hug my legs, abuelo gave me a light peck on the cheek and a knowing smile.

Thankfully there wasn’t much talk needed as Mrs. Suarez sat me down at the kitchen table with a bowl of green beans to be snapped and a glass of lemonade.

There I stay into the evening helping cook or chop, anything I could do while sitting instead of standing on my swollen ankles.

Around 7pm, the back door slammed twice and I could hear Mrs. Suarez shout what I could only assume was an order for the boys to wash up as dinner was almost ready.

I took my place between abuelo and Antonia, settling in for whatever reaction was about to come my way.


	2. The Hurt in Silence

Javier proceeded Carlo into the kitchen a few minutes later. When his eyes landed on Katey he was unable to beat a hasty retreat thanks to his brother pushing him into the room. At a single look from his mother, Carlo sat down across from his baby sister, leaving the only open seat across from Katey. Javier stared at the chair as if it had offended him just by it’s placement.

Without so much as a glance at the young woman the table, Javier spoke in Spanish, “No thank you, mother, I’m not hungry tonight.”

Before he could make two steps, his mother replied in kind, “Sit down, Javier.” Her tone strong.

Like a good little Cuban boy, he listened to his mother, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. What was Katey doing there? Peaking up at just her stomach, he saw what Carlo meant by _his_ American not being far enough along for the child growing in her womb to be his. Six months had passed since their night on the beach, and not that he really knew much about pregnant women, but he thought she couldn’t be more than two to three months along.

A bark of laughter boomed through his mind at his next thoughts. Oh yeah, this rich American girl is going to be demanding support from her poor Cuban ex-dance partner. This girl, woman, had grown up in high society while his own father was murdered by Batista’s secret police. They should never have even met, their social and life statuses so different, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Javier poked at his food as his nephew and little sister tried to engage everyone in some attempt at speaking, even child ramblings. Carlo speaking to his mother and grandfather. Only Javier and Katey sat in silence, too distracted by their own minds to pay attention or eat.

The evening was progressing awkwardly smooth until Carlo decided to address Katey for the first time since her arrival, “So Katey, what brings you back so soon?”

Her head snapped up as soon as Javier slammed his hands on the table and pushed his chair back. She followed his movements until he had stalked out of the room.

Setting aside her napkin, Katey turned towards Mrs. Suarez who was berating her oldest son, “It’s alright, Mrs. Suarez, I should really be going. Yolanda will be here soon.”

Angelica rose from her seat and pulled Katey into a tight hug, “You come back any time you need.” She rubbed Katey’s belly, “and abuela will be here.”

Kissing Mrs. Suarez’s cheek, she made her way to the front of the house. Katey admired the decor as she walked quietly towards the front courtyard. As she grew nearer, the sounds of bickering and rapid fire Spanish were heard. Recognizing the voices of Yolanda, who must have come early to retrieve Katey, and Javier almost instantly. These were the moments where she wished she had taken Spanish instead of French because although her Spanish was improving, there was no way she could keep up their argument.

 

(POV - Javier)

 

Javier had been content to wander the streets of Havana lost in thought, but as soon as he left the gate of his home, he spotted Yolanda strolling down the road in his direction. He stopped just in the shadows and wait for her. She had been with Katey last night at La Rosa Negra, it must have been her idea for all of this.

Yolanda slowed her steps as she approached the gate and Javier knew he’d been seen. Grabbing her by the elbow, he dragged her into the shadow of the wall just like he had done to Katey that day in the garage right after he was fired for walking her home.

Yolanda yanked her elbow out of his grasp and spoke with a mock smile, “Hola to you, too, Javier.” Her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rolling his eyes, Javier took a deep breath before he started speaking, “What have you done, bringing her here?” He couldn’t bring up the baby.

It was Yolanda’s turn to roll her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest and spoke in a harsher tone, “What’s the matter, Javier? I thought you might like to see your handiwork.” She stared up at him in challenge.

Javier stared at her for a long moment before he scrubbed his hands over his face, wiping away the sweat from the humidity, sighing, “What are you talking about, Yolanda? Carlo said -”

The older woman cut him off with her hands on her hips, “I don’t give a damn what Carlo said to you last night or any other time.” She raised a hand to poke him in the chest, right over his heart, “You still love her, admit it.”

Ever the young man, she denied it, “No, Yolanda, I don’t. She left-”

Exasperated she shouted over his rambling, “Because she had to, you bastard!” Yolanda took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and if she wasn’t still so angry, she would have laughed at the shocked look on Javier’s face.

The silence seemed to stretch and she almost thought their interaction was over until he spoke again. Javier was already soft spoken so Yolanda had to strain slightly to hear, “But how? Why?” He was scrubbing his face with his hands again. A new nervous habit it seems.  
Calming slightly Yolanda spoke, “I think you know how, Javier.” She squeezed his upper arm and turned to enter the small courtyard only to see Kately standing just outside of the house with a look of betrayal and hurt.


	3. The Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it folks! I know this is the first in the Havana Nights fandom on here so please be nice :)

Yolanda wasn’t expecting to see Katey as she entered the small courtyard. The smile she had put on to see the others slipped a bit when she noticed the pain in her friend’s blue eyes.

The older woman reached out a comforting hand only to have Katey brush her off with a shake of her head and slip out of the gate. In her rush to leave, Katey didn’t notice Javier still standing in the shadow of the outer wall next to the gate. Yolanda started to follow Katey, but when she spotted Javier’s blank expression, she cuffed him around the ears, “What are you doing just standing there?”

Confused by the abuse and emotion, he hadn’t noticed Katey had passed him, “Estupido, go after her! She’s an American alone in Havana at night.” As if being accosted by an elder wasn’t enough, he had been on the verge of tears and didn’t see the streak of blonde fly past as he should have.

Nodding, he took off in the direction of clicking heels as they rounded a corner. Katey hadn’t lived in Havana long before she was forced to leave so there were only a few places she thought she would go - places they had spent time in secret together.

It was almost dawn when Javier found Katey on the abandoned beach in a tattered tent near Hotel Oceana. He fully expected anger when he confronted her, but after all of this time Javier should have known she would defy his expectations.

(Katey POV)

I wasn’t sure how I ended up on the beach in that tent, our tent. I guess subconsciously it seemed like a fitting place to end up. It all began here on this beach. I sat there, watched the first colors of the sunrise crest over the horizon, and could feel myself being watched. I knew it was him, there was always something about him. We had promised to keep a piece of each other with ourselves.

Javier crawled into the tent beside me, a small space left between us. He was leaving the rest up to me. I didn’t want to touch him, especially after I had heard the words “love” and “Javier” in the same heated conversation between him and Yolanda, who I thought was my friend.

The silence stretched between us until Javier worked up the courage to speak first, “Katey, what’s wrong?”

I could feel he had jumped when I started to laugh, tears still in my eyes. I twisted myself and sat up on my knees in hopes of being taller than him, gaining some higher ground. I must’ve looked like an insane woman, still laughing as I threw my hands in the air and repeated his ridiculous question, “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” I knew my voice was steadily raising, but he had such  a guilty look on his face, I don’t think I could have ever stayed mad at him. I loved him too much.

Slouching back onto the sand, I could feel the tears welling up again and this time I let him pull me into his warm embrace effectively closing the gap that was originally between us.

When I could speak again, I repeated myself, “What’s wrong?” I looked up at his chocolate eyes, searching for the truth, for him to take the lead. “What were you and Yolanda arguing about?”

I could tell that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear based on how wide his eyes became. Taking that as confirmation of what I thought was the truth, I tried to pull myself away and escape his arms, but they only seemed to tighten as he said, “No no no” over and over.

Still fighting his arms, I spat out, “No what, Javier?” Oh God, those pregnancy hormones were going to be the death of me.

He gave me that guilty face again, the same one he used that day in the garage when he said he wasn’t trying to win a contest by dancing with me. He was trying to placate me, “You still haven’t picked up Spanish.” A well placed slap to the chest changed his course of explanation. “Look, I know how that probably sounded-”

“Yolanda loves you and you love her?” Isn’t that what the argument was about?

He sputtered as his mind started processing my words, “Why does no one let me finish my sentences?”

I blushed and looked back at the water then down into my lap where my hands fidgeted, “Sorry.”

His hands started to road upwards from my shoulder and into my hair. It felt too divine to shake off so I let him continue as he spoke, “What I was saying is that you didn’t understand what we were saying, translation out of context.” Javier’s right hand reached into my lap for my own hands resting there, rubbing his thumb along the knuckles.

Still looking down at our intertwined hands, “Then translate for me.”

He chuckled and I could feel him press a kiss to my hair. Laying his head against mine, he began to explain in detail his conversation with Yolanda just outside of the gate. He kissed my head again, “I’m sorry, we would have used English if we had known you were listening, out of respect.”

“So you don’t love Yolanda?” I took a minute to revel in the sound of his laughter and he smiled when he spoke, “That’s all you took from that?”

I swatted his chest again for good measure as the silence resettled around us, this time comfortably.

As we watched the waves roll in and out, and the sun rise fully, I kissed the underside of his jaw, “Javier?” I got a simple ‘hmm’ in response. “I have one more question.”

His jaw tightened slightly, “Anything.”

I hesitated at first, I wasn’t sure how he would take the question because it involved his brother. I took his hand again, holding it between mine, admiring the differences in size and color. With a deep breath, I asked what had been weighing on my mind, “Javier, last night at La Rosa Negra when we were on the dance floor, what was it that Carlo whispered to you that made you leave so quickly?”

With his body still wrapped securely around me, I could feel the tension in every muscle, the pace of his heartbeat speed up in time with his breathing. He spoke slow at first, “You know Carlo has a son.” I nodded, “Yes, Rafael.”

A small smile made an appearance before disappearing just as quickly, “No one was sure he was Carlo’s, except now he looks just like abuelo, because all we had was the word of this girl who dropped off her baby and ran.”

I remembered when Javier first told me that story, but I could feel there was more he needed to get out so I stayed quiet. “Last night when I saw you out there dancing, so free, so… so…”

“Cuban?” I whispered, our little joke.

There was that hint of smile again, “Si, Cuban. Then you turned and for a brief second I was so happy when I was your belly so full of life. Carlo said you were too small for the child to be mine. That you had been gone too long and would try to pin another man’s baby on me like what happened to him.” His voice sounded like he was beating himself up about it, “And I, of course, listened to him.”

As angry as I was at Carlo now, I understood why Javier would believe him first. Carlo was his older brother and their father was dead.

Gently, I removed Javier’s arms from around me and turned so we were sitting face to face like that night in this very tent not so long ago. I cupped his jaw to make sure he was looking at me, “Oh Javier, you know I’m only slightly shorter than you.” He nodded. “I’m not small.”

I took his hands in mine and placed them on either side of my belly as I spoke with determination, “Though it may not seem like much, this womb is carrying your child. Doctor Aaron estimated six months before I left Miami.”

With his eyes still locked onto the placement of our hands, he repeated, “Six months.” Brown eyes met my blue, “Mine?” I couldn’t help but copy his goofy smile of joy, “Yours.”  
We lay back in the sand, with a our hands protectively over my still growing belly, Javier whispered in my ear something I actually understood, “La Rosa de La Habana.” _The Rose of Havana._


End file.
